


Call on me, Brother

by BurningGalaxies



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Family Feels, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 10:25:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18990799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningGalaxies/pseuds/BurningGalaxies
Summary: In short, Five's leader is a brutish blonde that grabs bad guys by the scruffs of their necks and throws them out of three story buildings. Five's brother gets upset when Klaus kills spiders instead of letting them back outside.Go figure.





	Call on me, Brother

  
Super strength, in Five's opinion, is probably the least helpful power that a teenager could have.

Altering reality with a single murmur is useful. Conjuring the dead also has its benefits. And not to toot his own horn or anything, but teleporting has to be the most skillful if not downright _impressive_  ability to possess.

But by all means, put the child that can throw things real good in charge.

(It's not like he's indestructible or anything useful like that. Considering what one of their brothers has going on under his shirt, it's such a waste to call him captain.)

Although, Five supposes he does have to give credit where credit is due; Luther never once used his ability for his own personal gain. The clumsy oaf tore his door off its hinges on the daily, accidentally snapped silverware in half like used pencils, and couldn't even lean on the kitchen counters for fear of pushing them out of place. But.

_But_.

Despite all of his big-headed-ness, Luther could still be one of the more caring of his siblings. It showed in the way he covered them in the line of fire, when he carried them to bed after falling asleep in the car or the living room, how he refused to roughhouse no matter how much he was goaded into it. Even the prospect of accidentally hurting one of them makes him crumble easier than one of Grace's cookies.

In short, Five's leader is a brutish blonde that grabs bad guys by the scruffs of their necks and throws them out of three story buildings. Five's _brother_  gets upset when Klaus kills spiders instead of letting them back outside.

Go figure.

But when he startles at his desk at the sound of a loud _CRASH_  down the hall, blinks to Diego's bedroom and peers at the chaos unfolding inside, he thinks _yeah_.

It might not hurt to have some extra muscle on this one.

 

* * *

 

_Paft._

That would be the sound of a certain brother plopping down beside him on the couch cushion.

Luther amicably ignores the sound, flipping a page in his book and pointedly not responding to his existence. In response, Ben brings his face within scant inches from his own and stares him down. When he tries to knock his book from his hand, Luther simply shifts it out of reach.

"Please, Luther?" He whines, poking him a few times.

He hears an odd panting noise on his other side, followed by incessant tugging on his arm that does absolutely nothing to move him. "C'mon! Do it again. Do it do it do it do it —" Klaus squeals when Luther pushes him off with a (gentle) shove, landing clear on the other side of the couch. He does the same to Ben, and the two of them burst into giggles before scrambling back for more.

Luther rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth turns up slightly. These goons. They get easier to entertain with each day.

Another odd but familiar noise interrupts their antics - the _sch-fwoop_  pop of Five's arrival that goes fully ignored by the other two. They fall from Luther's shoulders when he stands up though, focus entirely trained on the fidgety boy in front of him. "Five, what's wrong?"

Five's hands curl and uncurl as he shifts in place, harried, his eyes urgent. "It's Diego. He's," he gestures vaguely to his chest, but Luther understands. He sighs. _Not again._

Behind him, two voices raise up. "What's wrong with Diego?" (Ben). "Can I help?" (Klaus).

"Absolutely not," Luther turns, pointing a finger at the two of them. "Stay here. Do _not_ follow us, understand?"

Ben nods and sits back on his haunches nervously. Klaus crosses his arm and flops down with a pout, but he doesn't object either. Small miracles.

Turning back, Luther shares an even look with Five, and the two of them rush up the stairs - two at a time.

"So," Five breathes once they reach the landing, looking to Luther for guidance. "What's the plan?"

And that was... A really good question. One that Luther doesn't have the time to answer before a series of heavy _THUD_ s sound from Diego's room, and he sprints the rest of the way down the hall. There's no time to hash out a step by step process.

"Diego -" Luther bursts into the room —

Oh. _Oh_.

Diego's room is _destroyed_.

In just a three second glimpse of the room, Luther takes in all the damage; the curtains are shredded at uneven lengths, the wardrobe lays tipped on its side spewing its contents all over the floor, and everything on his desk looks as if someone ran it through the shredder. Luther almost slips on the paper.

In the center of the room is Diego, back turned to them, pulling at his hair, _hitting himself_  —

"Diego!" Luther doesn't think, doesn't have a plan to work off of, just shoves past the tipped wardrobe blocking the way and grabs at his brother's shoulders. It's not the first time that he's gotten so worked up, spitting mad in a way that can't be reasoned with, and it most certainly isn't the first time that Luther's witnessed the consequences either. When Diego loses it this hard, there's nothing in his right mind holding him back from slamming that self destruct button and letting loose.

Which is why Luther isn't surprised when Diego flinches under his touch, only to turn on him with a renewed, fiery hatred aimed outwards instead of in. "Get _out_ _!_ " He snarls, shoving at Luther's chest. And when that didn't work out the way he wanted it to, he all but _tackles_  him to the ground, sending the pair reeling, a tumble and clatter of limbs against hardwood.

Luther grunts, fending off the fists that pound at his chest with no real purpose other than the rush to _hurt_  — and Luther knows that Diego can be angry, knows that he wouldn't normally take it this far, but it's hard not to genuinely fear him in those few hectic seconds.

Except that fear escalates _far_  beyond that when Five appears at Diego's side, attempting to pull him off by his upper arm —

Apparently, Diego's teeth are just as apt at drawing blood as his knives.

"Little _shit!_ " Luther hisses, tossing his brother off him before he even has time to wipe at his face. If it seriously hurt him, Diego doesn't show it; He's already trying to push himself to all fours when Luther pins him down - it's only one hand at the square of his back, but it floors him in two seconds.

"Go get Grace," Luther orders, Diego flailing under him and cursing. When Five doesn't move immediately, cradling his hand and wide eyes trained on Diego, Luther raises his voice. "Now, Five!"

This seems to jolt him back to reality, Five stumbling backwards and disappearing from one step to the next.

"Get! Off! Me!" Diego squirmed, heels kicking at the floor as he heaved all his weight against the hand at his back.

Nothing. Not even an inch.

Which only serves to frustrate him further, given the way he thrashes and slaps his palms against the floor, growling. "I don't - fucking - _want_  you here, I don't want _her_  —"

" _Tough_." Luther shrugs, shaking his head as he watches Diego waste his energy. Sometimes it's best to wait out the storm. "I'm not going anywhere until you calm down."

Diego shouts wordlessly and hits the floor again. "Don't you _f-f-fuh —!_ "

Oh. The stutter. _That's not good_ , Luther's brain supplies the obvious. Diego was always so careful about hiding it away - meticulously so, even. Despite the fact that not one of his siblings ever faulted him for it.

Diego stiffens under him the second it happens, deflates, and Luther thinks hey, maybe they've braced the wor-

Until Diego lifts his head and lets it fall to the floor - does it again more forcefully - _screams bloody murder_  when Luther yanks him away from the floor.

"Diego, you have to stop." Luther strained, arms hooked under his brother's to keep them apart. The difficult part is keeping their _heads_ from bashing together, because as much as Luther wants to help the situation, he really doesn't want to explain to their father how he got a broken nose when dinner rolls around.

"Let me _go_!" Diego yells, pulls, wrenching his shoulders this way and that. His boots scramble for purchase, but Luther doesn't give him enough space to get up. "Just - hng - just _let me_..."

"You have to stop," Luther repeats, gently this time as Diego struggles to breathe. "Come on. Use your hands, remember?"

His brother grunts, said hands trembling from how tightly they're balled in fists on either side of his body. "I c- _hnn_  - I c-c-  _can't_  —"

"You can. Diego, I know you can. You've done it before. It'll help."

But god, if it doesn't take every ounce of Diego's willpower to do it, though. The way he inhales, Luther would have thought he was going to start screaming again.

But.

Slowly, slowly, Diego's fists loosen. (From this close, Luther can see the crescent marks from where his nails dug into his palms, and he doesn't know how to feel about it.) As they straighten and curl again, some of the tension in Diego's arms bleeds out.

Luther nods, and starts counting. "One," That's one finger, pried away from the rest. "Two," And another. "Three." And so on. It's not so much about the fingers as the counting - the mental catalogue of something that can be counted when nothing else is in reach. Or maybe for Diego it's the movement of his hands in a way that distracts him from what his impulses are telling him to do.

Either way it works, and by the time Diego has an entire hand outstretched, he's breathing normally again. Or at least - not straining for each breath, anyway. Luther will take progress where he can get it.

The sound of heels clicking down the hall reaches them by finger number eight, and Luther doesn't hear so much as _feel_  the subtle change in Diego's demeanor when Grace appears in the doorway.

"Diego," she tsks softly, a sad smile on her face as she kneels beside the two of them, mindful of her skirt. Diego lurches forward at his name, a choked off sob bubbling from his throat, and Luther finally lets go as Grace nods to him. He collapses into their mother's outspread arms instantly, muffled crying signifying the end of something awful.

Luther crosses his arms over his chest and sighs quietly, closing his eyes.

He can't help but think that it doesn't mark the beginning of anything good, either.

 

* * *

 

Knock knock. "Hey, Five?"

Five doesn't look up from his homework when Luther creaks his door open, in the middle of a particularly hefty equation. "I'm guessing the worst of it is over with, then?"

Luther shrugs his way into the room, shutting the door and standing there like he doesn't have a reason for being here, which Five knows he does but wishes he didn't. Conversation between them has never been a big thing, not like between him and Ben. "He's fine. Grace is taking care of him and his room."

"Hm. You know he's going to be angry with you later, right?"

Another shrug. Five notices out of the corner of his eye when Luther wanders over to his other desk, looking at his things when no one gave him permission to do so. "Diego's been doing pretty well lately when it comes to...that," 'That' being his break downs. "But it was really bad today. I don't think he'll want to talk about it."

"That's never stopped you before." Five looks up and takes a small amount of satisfaction in the way that Luther scrunches his face, like he wants to argue.

"It's different, Five."

"Oh? Enlighten me."

"It just is. Diego doesn't talk, he just acts. If that means he trains harder tomorrow, then so be it, but that's that. This isn't something any of us can bring up."

"That sounds healthy." Five scoffs, though he knows he's going to listen to Luther regardless, and so does Luther. That doesn't change the fact that Five doesn't think it's a good idea to sweep the incident under the rug. But hey, he's not number one, so too bad so sad.

A beat of silence ensues, the only sound the scribbling of Five's pen.

"You're getting better at your spatial jumps, by the way."

Five huffs at _that_ , already very much aware of his capabilities. He doesn't need vindication from anybody, thanks. He'll leave the whole 'competing for vindication from daddy' shtick to Luther and Diego, see how far that —

He hisses when Luther takes his arm, stilling and glaring up at him for the unwarranted touch. When had he gotten so close anyway?

"Are you okay?" Luther nods to the bandage wrapping across his palm and over his knuckles.

Five pulls his arm away. "I didn't ask for you to check on _me_ , Luther. You did your bit, thank you, go away now." He should have known that Luther was just beating around the bush, waiting for the right moment to turn the subject on him rather than the brother that really needed it.

"Does it hurt?" Luther insists, as if rephrasing the question to make it even more stupid will change Five's attitude.

"No, Luther. Haven't you heard? Biting feels good now."

"Five -"

"Just ask Klaus, he'll tell you all about it."

" _Five_."

"Yes, one?"

They both stare at each other, Five wearing a grin and Luther looking about two seconds away from strangling him. Hah!

"I know you're scared."

The grin falls from his face.

"You're scared for Diego," Luther continues, and Five doesn't like that. He doesn't like it when Luther proves to be observant. It's unnerving. "Because you've never seen him like that before, and he's pretty strong, right?"

Five has a number of things to say to that, but Luther continues before he can, probably most definitely on purpose.

"It's scary. But he'll be okay, Five. If we try to push it now, he'll never admit that anything is wrong and it won't get better. Letting him work it out on his own isn't the same as ignoring him."

Five blinks up at Luther, a little rattled by that frankly _jarring_  display of intelligence. Excuse him for taking a minute to process the insanity of it, jesus _christ_.

Luther pats his shoulder before making to leave, and Five starts. "Hey- "

"Yeah?"

"Are _you_  okay?"

Luther nods, but Five doesn't miss the split second of hesitation beforehand. "Yeah. Just winded. I'll be back with an ice pack, okay?"

He leaves when Five nods, and then he's left alone to his room again. It should be a relief, but he feels... unnerved. Anxious might be the better word.

His brothers are strong, but they're not indestructible. And, Five realizes as he frowns as he cradles his hand, neither is he. It's not some shocking revelation, but it leaves a sour taste in his mouth that he'd rather not address.

Eh. Five sighs as he returns his attention back to his work. He'll leave those concerns to Luther for the time being. His leader is more than capable of handling it.

And his brother always has their backs.

 


End file.
